Since my online connection may be a short-lived miracle, I’m not going to get too detailed, but I think maybe the Cone of Insanity took its revenge on me Monday. Our safe haven, a fishing camp on False River in Jarreau, LA, across from New Roads, became a terrifying reminder of why we try to get away from these storms and how futile our efforts often turn out to be. My own Cone of Decimation became a bull’s eye as Gustav tore into Point Coupee parish at hurricane force for almost 5 hours. The storm ripped the roof off our camp at about 2:30pm and while we tried to salvage our precious belongings that had been carefully selected, packed and brought with us to protect them from what could happen at home, Gustav threw a massive water oak (or maybe a sycamore or pecan, I’m no tree expert), a telephone pole and some roof debris on our cars. When the ceiling started to bulge downwards towards us, we knew it was time to get out. This was when we discovered the cars were inaccessible, buried under 15 feet of debris and tangled power lines, hissing and flashing like giant sparklers on the 4th of July. If it wasn’t for the courage, resourcefulness and generosity of the Olinde family across the road, I think my parents and I would be listed as casualties of the storm. I can’t express the gratitude and debt I owe Miss Helen, who they call Miss Honey, her amazing grandson Andrew and the rest of her kind, selfless family. They are my heroes and I thank them for the incredible gift they’ve given me and my family.

Word just arrived that “tier 1″ status and first wave reentry “placards” for next year’s hurricane season are now available with early purchase of Saints 2009 season tickets.

For the impaired: that’s a joke.

But seriously, I wonder if the brief but still gratuitous reminder of the Katrina  exodus many of us experienced this week will translate into any of that homecoming magic that made the Saints 2006 season opener against Atlanta such a palpable force.

Gustav and Katrina are not comparable, of course, but I know many New Orleans people will exult this weekend in the relief of being home again. Maybe the Saints can tap that energy in the Dome on Sunday when the Buccaneers visit. We don’t need all of it from that night in 2006, but even a little dose of raw, audacious New Orleans elation at having escaped catastrophe and getting back to the rhythm of our city could be just the thing to turn a few key plays in our favor.

And speaking of jokes, despite whatever lame attempts at blasé humor our mayor tries to float, I will be very glad to see Buccaneers fans visiting our city this weekend, patronizing our businesses and enjoying the New Orleans allure that makes our community worth all the trouble.

– Ian McNulty

P.S. - Who Dat?

I just completed a strange bit of travel, heading north on Interstate 55 from the New Orleans area to Jackson while it seemed that just about everyone with a fleur de lis emblem or faded Wagner’s Meat bumper sticker on their cars was headed home on the highway’s southbound lanes.

I’ve been in Baton Rouge since Sunday and now I’m continuing a regional odyssey of book readings. So though I want very badly to be back home, I’m in a contra-re-vacuation travel pattern as local communities repopulate this week.

From today’s unique vantage of driving smoothly and quickly in the wrong direction then, I can report a traffic flow that changes radically and suddenly for those headed home. Stretches of many miles at a time on the southbound lanes were open and vehicles appeared to be clipping along at normal freeway speeds. But then choke points crop up, especially at McComb, at Amite and of course at the junction with Interstate 12.

The upshot is that if you start cruising on a stretch of I-55 in light traffic, don’t get your hopes up that it will be a straight shot for the rest of the haul and if you need to plan a break from the highway for fuel, food or other needs, it’s probably better to pick a smaller exit and take what you can get rather than get stuck with everyone else at the better equipped stops.

Throughout the trip, I noticed countless southbound utility bucket trucks, formed up in platoons of six or eight each. These are obviously part of the cavalry called in to repair the area’s damaged electrical service. Were I to see such a convoy in my mirror, I’d be sure to give them some room. After all, I’d like them to get to work and restore my electricity before I return home, which they can only do by getting past me on the highway.

– Ian McNulty

Open Gas Stations: provided by the state’s emergency Web site.

Looks to be updated frequently.

Just emailed from the Blog of New Orleans’ sports guy Alejandro de los Rios:

I just left Hattiesburg on I59, little traffic at the moment but I’d say close to 95% of the cars have Louisiana tags. I’ll keep you posted.

Update, 6:20 pm:

23 miles from I-10, and I just hit my first bit of traffic.

Those claims about how well contraflow worked this time around? Not so much.

Head over to Katrina: An Unnatural Disaster for Loki’s report on the Interstate 59 contraflow disaster in Mississippi, complete with photos of police blocking offramps to keep evacuees from getting off the interstate:

Image courtesy/copyright Loki/Humid City

As my cats came closer and closer to fatal heatstroke, we poured water over their heads to cool them off. Two almost died. People around us were obviously suffering in the temperature, including many elderly and infants. The various cars stalled out on the side of the road stood like scarecrows striking the fear of being left behind into our hearts. The worst place to be in a hurricane, bar none, is in a car stuck in traffic. Visions of being blown into the air in your vehicle by the “Mother of All Storms” contributed to the palpable feelings of despair.

In Mississippi, police blocked the off ramps, several cars at each. it seems we were not wanted or allowed to leave the parking lot that was Contraflow. Fear of the situation warred with rage at those whose panic was substituted for leadership. All the while, the radio spewed forth reports of how well Contraflow was working, alternating with self-congratulatory proclamations by the mayor.

My wife became so ill with the heat that an ambulance, sheer impossibility in this situation, was seriously contemplated. The lady who was driving and my wife both had to use the side of the road to relieve themselves, as did anyone else on the road.

The last few miles of this hell ride were the slowest and ugliest. The fact that I did not see any violence around us is something that makes me take pride in my fellow man; the shimmering heat haze was a type well know in the subtropics, the type that incites tempers.

More at the link.

The Greater New Orleans Fair Housing Action Center has set up GustavInfo.org, a great clearinghouse for storm-related information. Worth a bookmark.

As noted this morning, somehow James O’Byrne’s Times-Picayune editorial, “Next time, we won’t leave,” has somehow vanished from Nola.com’s Hurricane Gustav coverage.

It’s not our property, so we can’t repost it, but you can read it or download your own copy here.

Traffic on I-190 headed southbound is very heavy. Right now, what’s open on I-190 in Covington: